Jan Drexler - The Prodigal Son Returns

“Are you looking for a plow, Bram?”

Even though John’s voice was friendly, his question merely curious, Bram’s nerves arose. He did a quick check of the crowd around them. Everyone seemed to be focused on the auction and farm equipment. He turned his attention to John.

“Ja. I’m getting a late start on the farm, and I need everything.”

“You’re planning on buying all the equipment you need?”

“Well, I need a plow first. I’ll start with that.”

“It looks like you might have found one,” John said, taking a look at the sulky plow. “But don’t buy everything at once. You have neighbors, you know. I have a harrow you can use.”

“And you can use our planter,” Matthew said.

John turned to Bram. “All you need to do is let the church know, and we’ll have your whole farm plowed, planted, cultivated and harvested before the day is over.”

Matthew and John both laughed at this. Bram wanted to join in, but caution nagged at him.

“Why would you do that? Why would you loan me your equipment?”

“You’re one of us, son.” John’s words came with a puzzled frown. “Have you been gone so long that you’ve forgotten our way? How we work together?”

Forgotten? This wasn’t part of his memory of growing up here.

“No one ever helped my Dat, and I don’t remember him ever...” His words stopped as he saw the looks on the other men’s faces. John and Matthew exchanged glances. Had he said something wrong? Bram gave a scan to the milling farmers around them again.

“Bram, I’m sorry.” John glanced at him, then back at Matthew. “I forgot about your father...” He cleared his throat. “You can count on us to give you a hand anytime. Anything you need.”

Dat had never had the easy camaraderie with the men in their community that John and Matthew shared, but as a child Bram never knew why. Now he was beginning to figure it out. He swallowed hard as the memories came rushing out of the place where he had shoved them. Dat’s stash of moonshine in the barn, the weeks of missed church, the halfhearted repentance that was just enough to keep the ministers from putting Dat under the bann...

And most of all, Dat’s way of always finding something else to do whenever the men gathered together for a work frolic. The Lapps were never part of the community unless it worked into Dat’s plans.

He had shoved those memories away and locked the door as he stood on the roadside with his thumb out, heading west. Oh, yes, he remembered the stares, the whispers. This was one of the reasons he’d left.

Matthew put his hand on Bram’s arm, and he almost shrugged it off. He wanted to be angry, to shut out their pity, but he stopped himself. That was what Dat would have done.

“Let us give you a hand, Bram.”

Matthew’s face was grim, but there was no pity there, only the determined offer of an alliance.

Bram nodded, trying on the friendship offered. It felt good.

“Ja, I’d welcome the help.”

* * *

“How many quarts of rhubarb juice do you think we’ll end up with?” Lovina dumped another pile of cut rhubarb into the bowl.

“Whatever we end up with, you know it won’t be enough. Dat drinks a cup every day.” Ellie eyed the bowl. A few more inches, and it would be full enough to start the first batch of juice. She was glad that even though Lovina lived several miles away she was still willing to help with this chore every year. The two sisters had made the family supply of rhubarb juice for as long as she could remember—ever since they were the same ages as Mandy and Rebecca, for sure.

“The plants at our place aren’t growing as well this year. Noah says it’s a sign we’re in for another bad year.”

“And Noah is always right, of course.” Ellie looked sideways at Lovina. Even after four years of marriage, that telltale blush crept up her neck at the mention of Noah’s name. Lovina still thought her husband was the next thing to perfect.

“Ja, of course.” Lovina grinned at her, then went back to her cutting. “I do hope he’s wrong this time, though. Another year with no rain will be hard.”

Ellie’s thoughts went to the field of young strawberry plants. There had to be enough rain to keep them alive. She forced her mind in a different direction.

“What does Noah think about the new baby?”

“He’s on top of the world with this one. It was a long time to wait after Rachel before we knew this one was coming.”

“Not so long. Rachel is only three.”

“Ja.” Lovina paused.

Ellie glanced over to see a distant look on her sister’s face. Ach, she should never have mentioned it. Now Lovina was thinking about the one they had lost after Rachel. She always knew what Lovina was thinking, even though they weren’t as close as they had been as girls.

Lovina dumped another pile of cut pieces into the bowl. Ellie added her rhubarb and gave the bowl a shake to even it out.

“Looks like it’s time to start cooking the first batch.”

“Ja. I forgot to ask earlier. Do you have enough sugar?”

“Mam said to use sorghum. Sugar is too dear.” Ellie added water to the big kettle on her stove and then poured in a pint of the thick, sticky syrup.

“Not too sweet, remember.”

“Ja, I remember. You say that every year.”

“If I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be right.”

Ellie stirred the mixture and smiled at her sister. She was right. They had to do the same things the same way every year. It was tradition. “Do you think Susan and Rachel will make rhubarb juice together when they’re grown?”

“That would be sweet, wouldn’t it?” Lovina smiled at the thought, then went back to cutting more rhubarb. “How are the strawberries doing?”

Ellie stirred the rhubarb. Dat wouldn’t let them hear the end of it if she let them scorch. “Truth to tell, I’m awfully worried about them. It’s been so dry.”

“Do you think they’ll last long enough for you to get berries from them next year?”

“I hope so. I can’t bear to think what might happen if they don’t....”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie looked at Lovina. She could always share everything with her sister, but should she share this problem now?

“Come on, Ellie. I know when you’re worried.” Lovina gave her a sudden, piercing look. “You spent all of your money on those plants, didn’t you?”

Ellie nodded and went back to stirring the rhubarb.

“You’re not in danger of losing your farm, are you?”

“Ach, ne. As long as the Brennemans continue to pay their rent, I’ll be able to keep up on the taxes. It will just delay moving back there. If the plants don’t make it, I’ll lose the money I spent on them plus next year’s income from selling the berries.”

“And the year after...”

“I hoped by that time we’d be back home.”

Lovina was silent as she sliced rhubarb.

“Ellie, I haven’t said anything before...”

Ellie looked at Lovina. “What is it?”

“It’s been almost two years...”

“Not yet. It’s been only a year.”

Lovina’s mouth was a firm line as she turned to her. “It’s been longer than that. It will be two years in September. You keep talking about moving home as if you think that will make everything the same as it was.”

Ellie turned back to the stewing rhubarb. “I just want to give the children what Daniel wanted for them.”

“And what is that?”

“You know, we’ve talked about it before.” Ellie turned to Lovina again and gestured with the spoon. “It’s what you and Noah have. Daniel never had a home. He was moved around between relatives until he came to Indiana to live with Hezekiah and Miriam. When he bought our farm, he was determined to give his children what he never had.”